The Sock Fic (A Phan Story)

FOUR - Phil's POV

I still can't believe it. Or get my head round it. Dan... I'd never think that he'd...

We're sitting there, our faces centimetres apart, our arms around each other, still crying like 5-year-olds. I can see that neither of us want to be physical as it were, but we love each other. And that seems to be all that matters now. Just Dan and me. Taking on the world. Together.

Just sitting there, hugging. My hands rub his back slowly and vice versa. He seems so warm. I always seems to have the strangest thoughts in these situations. My hand finds his left foot. I don't know why, but I slip off his sock.

He looks at me. And bursts out laughing.

Seeing him like that, I just have to laugh. "OK, Phil. Flirting with me by taking off my sock?"

"Er... yeah, no... Oh god," I say, looking down. I'd fucked that one up.

"No, it's fine," he says, lifting my chin with one finger to face toward him, "It's kind of cute really. Very Phil-ish."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," he says, his silky voice with a smile in it. He slips his hand down onto my foot. And takes off my sock. I take off his other sock. He takes off mine.

The strangest things, it seems, can be romantic. Both of us sitting there on the bed, cross-legged, bare footed, looking down. And smiling. We're both smiling. I gently take his shoulder and we fall left so that we're lying down. Not to do anything. Just to sit there. Looking into each others' eyes.

So we stay like that, just lying there, smiling, laughing, talking.

But it meant so much more than that. To both of us.